No Brakes
by Dass Jemand Besondere
Summary: In a world were savage monsters hunt for the flesh of humans, there are those who choose for themselves the responsibility to protect humankind. Many of them are gifted with unique powers. But even with all their weapons and strength, can they fight against a new, looming enemy: themselves? AU. RWBY-Inspired. [Cover Image taken from RWBY: World of Remnant.]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** : This fanfic is only a transformative work. All characters, concepts, and references pertaining to Ouran High School Host Club rightfully belong to Bisco Hatori and Hakusensha, just as the characters, concepts, and references pertaining to RWBY belong to Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth. I do not make any profit in making this. This work is purely created by a fan for fans.

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 **Prologue**

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For as long as humanity has known, the creatures of Grimm have prowled upon Earth, hunting for human flesh.

And for as long as humanity will ever know, they will remain.

Born out of human negativity, the Grimm have always been the predator of humankind. Though weak and vulnerable, the people have waged a valiant war against them for the sake of survival. In some years the prospects have been good, though on others bleak.

But in the centuries mankind have endured, they discovered three things that have helped them survive for so long:

Aura, Semblance, and Dust.

For ever since the creation of man Aura has been the innate belonging of all living things. In ancient times, people have worshiped and respected this, as it gave each child born the gift of life—the blessing of a soul. The very fibre of life, the Aura is, and in the passing times they discovered an enchantment that humans have been blind for so long: that with will and intent, one's Aura can protect oneself.

In this epiphany, and in celebration that the gods have truly not forsaken them, humans have taught themselves to protect themselves and their loved ones from the savages that were Grimm.

Upon this advent, hope for humankind was brighter than anyone have ever thought.

Blessed as humanity may be, some were more gifted than the others. They were the ones endowed with special abilities called Semblances, innate properties of the privileged people that were more intimate than their Aura. They were the ones with the power that set them apart from the ordinary. Sorcery, some might call it, but it was something that all honoured. And while those who were blessed with it acquired them birth, but like the Aura it stemmed from, will and intent can guarantee one to call upon his or her own Semblance.

They were called the Dusted, and the reason so was because only they can naturally wield elements collectively called Dust. Discovered only decades after the first practical use of the Aura and the Semblance, these elements were energy propellants that the Dusted can use their Auras to manipulate. They were found in four basic forms: wind, fire, water, and earth. Secondary types were a combination of two primary types of Dust, the prominent kinds being lightning and ice. With enough transformations, even tertiary types can be created, such as steam and molten rock.

But the ordinary, with only their Auras as their innate protection, can never be inferior in the war between humanity and Grimm. After extensive study and practice, ordinary men and women can use them, even artificially. And they used this knowledge to strengthen their weapons. Dust was also to their use, and with ingenuity and innovation, they too can protect and defend as much as the Dusted can.

Time after time, after numerous trials, humankind stood determined to survive and thrive. Different as they can be to each other, they all fought the same war against the same enemy.

Even during a time relative peace, the Grimm would exist. Battles would never cease. Newer ones may surface.

And such is the case of Japan, a few millennia after the emergence of a firmer stance against the creatures of Grimm. In that future, mankind may face a greater enemy than that of the Grimm: _themselves_.

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 _ **Author's Corner**_

This prologue is only brief. I can promise you longer chapters with action and humour. (Romance, however, is currently not on the table.) And for what it's worth, the first chapter is near ready to be published. Meanwhile, if you have questions, comments, and/or suggestions, please write a review. It would be highly appreciated and could not only help me improve but also give me ideas regarding this story. I'll do my best to cater to your satisfaction.

Oh and, because I'm not good with titles, I'd like to share that the title of this fanfic, No Brakes, is taken from the RWBY Soundtrack. Listen to it if you're curious about this reference. I even suggest you watch the RWBY series. While the animation can seem underdeveloped to some standards, it is highly compensated with the coolest action scenes you'll ever see. Trust me on that.

Anyway, I fervently hope I had you anticipate the rest of the story with this prologue.

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| _Dass Jemand Besondere_ |


	2. The Opening Ceremony

**Disclaimer** : This fanfic is only a transformative work. All characters, concepts, and references pertaining to Ouran High School Host Club rightfully belong to Bisco Hatori and Hakusensha, just as the characters, concepts, and references pertaining to RWBY belong to Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth.

The quote, "Take it out like an enemy and apologize if it's your friend later," is by corvusdraconis. It was taken from his/her fanfic Looks Can Be Deceiving.

I do not make any profit in making this. This work is purely created by a fan for fans.

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 **Chapter One: The Opening Ceremony**

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It was rather tempting to bail out in the opening ceremony, but Fujioka Haruhi felt that she had this responsibility to Ouran Battle Academy to attend any occasion that required everyone's presence—especially when she owed it to them. Being one of the few who'd ever been gifted with a scholarship, she knew she needed to have some sort of dignity to keep up. Ouran wasn't just known for its excellence; it was also known for its prestige.

Nonetheless, assumed responsibility or not, she was never fond of formal events. She could never be bothered to pick the right dress, don on make-up that she'd have to continuously remind herself not to ruin, and wear shoes that made walking difficult. All that and she'd have to endure hours of stiff movements, as the spell of _social convention_ would annihilate anyone that would go against it.

Even if others enjoy these types of occasions, like her keen father, she could never bring herself to enjoy them. It was hardly comfortable in the first place.

"The blossoms are quite exquisite this year," she heard a person say. It was followed by several agreements.

Yes, Haruhi supposed they were.

That afternoon, the entire new coming student population was currently in a courtyard. They were waiting for the opening ceremony to be held in a large ballroom, which were closed until the event proper. Meanwhile, the guests were entertained with the blooming sakura and the company of each other.

Littered around the courtyard were high circular tables which were continuously served with food and refreshments. The biggest tables could hold ten people and the smallest ones could only hold two. _Well, you know what they say: two's a company and three's a crowd._ The centrepieces per table were varying elegant flower arrangements, and many of them were definitely foreign. The servers—butlers would be a more appropriate term—were no less fancy, being dressed in impeccable vests and slacks.

Even the food and drinks being carted or carried around were intricately designed, and Haruhi mused this as she inspected the too-intricate cheese crackers— _I was told that this was called a canapé_ —she was eating.

It was a grand event for an opening ceremony, but considering that this was a prestigious school, she thought it was probably normal for them. _Rich people, honestly._ She suddenly felt that she was underdressed, but her program booklet— _hardbound with my name stamped on top; could they be more impractical?_ —had not indicated any dress code. In the cool April weather, she wore a pale pink sweater tucked in her black pleated skirt and a pair of combat boots.

In contrast, most of the rest clothed themselves as if they were on an extravagant tea party. But she didn't feel herself inappropriately dressed, because prestigious or not, Ouran was a battle academy. She was dressed like how a (future) huntress would.

Combat boots were almost always an appropriate choice of footwear since it was able to tread varying terrain. Furthermore, it kept the ankles firmly in place, lest one might injure them and make escape from Grimm difficult.

Skirts, while being distinctly feminine, were often a better choice because it provided the most mobility possible, provided that it was in the correct length and width. Too long and your legs can't stretch further than 90 degrees; too short and it can ride up to inappropriate lengths every time you'd try to kick. Too tight and you can't even kick at all; too wide and you'd have trouble keeping to yourself when, say, you're in the woods hiding from Grimm.

For modesty's sake, she usually wore cycling shorts underneath her skirts.

There were many other types of bottom wear that can be combat ready, so as long as it was flexible and provided one with apt mobility.

The same principle applied in choosing tops.

Distracted but entertained with her train of thoughts, she moved on from clothing to colour.

Bright colours were, by far, the best colours if one would want suicide by Grimm. Under any light, be it day or night, those colours would make one stick out like a sore thumb, especially to the Grimm whose diet consisted solely of human flesh. In true hunting fashion, earth colours provided one with the ability of blending in with the surroundings - forests most especially, where the Grimm domain lied. Soft colours, like the sweater she currently wore, also made on less likely to be noticed.

Without warning, she was interrupted with the sense of being watched. This warning didn't come without basis, she knew; her aura, as all auras in general, was her innate survival tool. While general knowledge states that auras are manifestations of peoples' souls, it also held the similar need of self-preservation attached to the person it belonged to. In layman's terms, one might call his or her aura in action as a gut feeling. But auras are more than accurate intuition, however. Depending on will and intent, it can be a tool to be used for survival, ranging from protecting one's body from heavy impacts to healing injuries.

She looked up from her table. With a little bit of eye-searching she saw a tall, dark haired man whose glasses were glinted at her direction. She furrowed her eyebrows suspiciously— _what could that man possibly want?_ But before she could begin to investigate, she was interrupted by one of the servers—butlers, she corrected.

"Refreshments, my lady?" To which Haruhi replied with a polite no.

She turned her head around, but the bespectacled man from before was no longer looking at her. He faced another direction this time, and was writing on what seemed to be a black ledger.

Slightly irritated of being less aware of surroundings, she roamed her eyes more closely around her.

Almost everyone was conversing with one another, save for the few like her who were alone patiently waiting. According to the academy website, Ouran averages a hundred or so enrolees annually, but the people gathered that afternoon were more than the prospective freshmen. It was because guests of the invited were allowed in the event as long as they informed the organizers before the RSVP deadline a week ago. (Haruhi's father would have loved the grandiose event in its entirety had Haruhi herself not forcibly left him behind. She wanted him to get as much rest as possible before going to his shift at a popular okama bar.)

She could see familiar prominent figures congratulating the said freshmen. Some also brought their family with them, like of that in the table several yards away from hers.

There was a young boy, no older than middle school, it seemed. He stood on top of a wooden stool because the table was too high for him. Blond was his hair, and his chocolate eyes shined with mirth. He was merrily eating cake whilst conversing with three young women in front of him. Beside him stood a dark man with darker hair whose height was most likely twice of that of the young boy, had the latter not been perched atop of the stool. Immediately sensing her stare, the taller man swivelled his steel grey eyes upon hers. Haruhi held his gaze for only a second before trailing her eyes somewhere else.

And was instantly presented with a rather exuberant image. Regrettably, almost. In one of the larger tables stood a very handsome young man surrounded by a flock of women, never mind that they crowded each other. _Is it just me or are they literally glowing? And is he really flirting with them all at the same time? And they actually allow him?_

Perturbed by the somewhat disturbing image, it didn't take her long to figure out how this phenomenon was actually possible. With his finely chiselled features framed with golden hair, it probably only took him a deep gaze of his bright purple eyes to have the knees of those women buckle. And that description was hardly an exaggeration; some women were only held standing by leaning their waists against the table. The women nearest to him faired the least, and the most unfortunate - though arguably the most fortunate - was the woman in his arms. With one arm around her waist pressing her against him and the hand in the other arm cupped on her cheek, it was with obvious great effort that she didn't lose consciousness. Meanwhile, the other women could only look longingly at him, wishing that they were next to be tenderly held.

As if afraid to let any woman unattended, he gently set aside the woman in his arms and held the next lucky one in a flourish. If a man, no matter how handsome, were to pull the same stunt to Haruhi without permission, she'd, without doubt, instantly twist his arm. Then she'd apologize and excuse it to her deeply ingrained reflexes.

Even if she left her signature weapons at home that doesn't mean she was any less guarded. _My mother had once said to take it out like an enemy and apologize if it's your friend later._

She could not help but feel a stinging pain of longing. _Mother..._

Trying to avoid herself from a circle of depressive thoughts that were likely to follow, she chose to read her program booklet to distract herself.

And she didn't have to distract herself for long. The cocktail hour they were currently enduring was about to end, and soon the doors to the ballroom were going to be opened. Followed by that were welcome messages from respected individuals before the evening dinner was to be served.

Seats were arranged, and the booklet that also served as an invitation said there would be someone who would direct her to her own one.

Being a social gathering, dances were also involved, but it was indicated that guests were permitted to leave during that time if they choose.

No sooner than she'd decided to take advantage of that liberty when the awaited doors were opened. The sounds of an orchestra greeted them. Conversations around her did not cease even as everyone began to head to the hall. From her peripheral vision she could see the group of women regretfully bidding their farewells to the fair man with the golden hair. To her right she could also see the blond boy from before, sitting on top of the tall man's shoulders, returning the ladies' goodbyes.

She finished reading the last pages of her booklet—she was never the type to leave anything unfinished—and past a long congratulatory message was a peculiar statement. She could not help but raise her eyebrows at the finale:

 _"The Host Club remains humble to have the honour of annually organizing the Ouran Battle Academy opening ceremonies."_

The rich people continued to surprise her. _Host Club? What is that exactly?_ But she shook her head and moved on, content with the idea that her middle-class life was as simple as she wanted it to be.

The next hours went by in a blur before she quietly made her leave in the earliest polite moment.

And when Haruhi returned to her apartment later that night, all thoughts of her mother were tucked away in the far recesses of her mind.

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 _ **Author's Corner**_

I couldn't wait long to upload this chapter. Somehow I felt so excited and giddy. Anyway, write a review of what you think about the prospects of this story. Questions and suggestions are also welcome.

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| _Dass Jemand Besondere_ |


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